


God Bless Us

by Seraina (seraina_doom)



Category: Fables, The Wolf Among Us
Genre: Ableism, Chronic Illness, F/M, Organized Crime, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 20:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11260596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraina_doom/pseuds/Seraina
Summary: Tim knew he what he was getting into when he started working for the Crooked Man. But what's done is done. Moments in the life of Tiny Tim before, during and after the events of Wolf Among Us.





	God Bless Us

1\. Misery Loves Company

Incessant knocking startled him out of an uneasy sleep, pulling him out of the fuzz of cheap painkillers and back into his stuffy studio apartment. The clock by his bedside showed that it was just past four in the afternoon. He grabbed his crutches off the floor and drug himself out of bed.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” He had no idea who would visit, perhaps Toad needed him to babysit again. He knew the rent was paid, so it wasn’t the landlord. He leaned on his good leg and opened the door to the width of the flimsy chain. 

Nerissa stood on the other side of the door, holding two grocery bags. She looked up at him with worry in her hazel eyes. “Tim? Are you okay? You haven’t been to work in a while and…” she glanced around the hallway and lowered her voice. “I was sent to check on you.”

“You were?” Tim was sure that he told the Crooked Man of his inability to work this week. His unnamed illness was acting up again, and he was too short on cash to pay for the medication that kept the symptoms at bay. “Oh, hang on.” He closed the door enough to take off the chain, which took far more effort in balance than he felt up to at the moment. He took a deep breath and opened the door for Nerissa to enter his tiny studio.

“I was.” She looked around for a place to deposit the groceries and decided to set them on his small table. 

It was only now that she was here he was embarrassed of how depressing his flat looked. His unmade bed was in the corner, the sad refrigerator hummed noisily in the kitchen. Not to mention he looked pretty terrible himself. He glanced around again and relaxed, leaning his weight on his crutches for a moment while he tried to think of something, anything, to talk about with the other Fable. “Would you like some tea? I can put a pot on.” 

Nerissa looked at him strangely, her eyebrows gathering upwards. “Why don’t you sit down and let me make you some soup? You look like you’re going to fall over. I mean… from being sick not from… um… sorry. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be sorry. I know what you meant. I wasn’t really expecting company. I don’t usually get any visitors.” He sat down at the table, easing his crutches to the floor. He watched her unpack the grocery bags and was surprised to see she meant that she was going to make the soup from scratch. 

She then set out several prescription bottles in front of him him. “Doctor Swineheart gave me these for you. He already knew what you needed.” 

He popped the lid off of each bottle with practiced ease and counted out the various pills for various ailments he may or may not actually have. Over the years, Doctor Swineheart theorized that his illness was a fictional chronic disease mashed together from several very serious diseases, each one could be more or less cured but together formed an incurable ailment that was manageable with a slew of medications both modern and archaic. 

“Thank you.” He lined up the pills in a neat line, knowing there was going to be a catch for accepting the gifts from the Crooked Man. But times were hard and, he was not too proud to accept the help of a benefactor. It wasn’t much different than when Ebenezer paid for his treatments back in the Homeworld.

Nerissa set a glass of water in front of him and turned away as he took the medication. She seemed as awkward as he was about the situation, being ordered to socialize with a complete stranger. Though he figured she was probably more used to it than he was. He picked up an envelope with his name on it and opened it.

Dear Tim,

I hope you are doing well, though I hear that you have not been taking care of yourself as much as you should. Consider yourself on vacation. And as such, you will find two weeks salary enclosed. I have taken the liberty of filling the prescriptions that Dr. Swineheart had on file. I have also scheduled an appointment for you at the hospital for a checkup. Nerissa will look after you for the time being. Do not hesitate to call if you need anything else.

\- CM

He folded the note and put it back in the envelope. He looked up at Nerissa, watching her cut up a chicken. “Where did you learn to cook?”

“Oh, Lily taught me. She’s a good cook.” The girl shifted uncomfortably as she stirred the soup pot, then turned back to the table and sat down in the opposite chair.

“That’s good.” He nodded, trying to keep the mood light. He couldn’t help but feel her eyes on him, like she was trying to see past his surface. Or maybe it was just the pounding in his head returning. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

She froze and he saw her breath hitch. “Oh no… I have to. I was already paid for my time.” She turned, her eyes starting to fill with tears. “Please don’t send me back early.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Nerissa. I just… if you had anything better to do, you don’t have to babysit me while I sit here. I’ll probably end up falling asleep.”

“Why don’t you take a nap, I can wake you when dinner is ready.” She seemed genuinely concerned for him and he was already starting to feel the pull of sleep. He’d been up all night being ill and had finally managed to pass out shortly before she showed up.

“Okay.” He grabbed his crutches off the floor and drug himself across the small span of space where his bed waited for him. Sleep took him as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Oddly enough, he dreamt of Ebenezer’s parlor with the warm hearth and the soft sofa. How he would curl up with a book and read, once he learned how. Once Ebenezer retired and his father took over, Tim spent most days with the old man. It was an arrangement that meant his brothers and sisters could get more attention from their mother and he didn’t have to be such a burden on his family. 

“Tim?”

A small hand on his shoulder shook him gently. He cracked his eyes open to see Nerissa standing over him. 

“Dinner is ready.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He smiled at her and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He could already feel the grogginess that came with some of the medication he took earlier. She hovered uncertainly, trying to be helpful but not knowing what to do. He swung his good leg over the side of the bed. “Can you hand me my brace?” He pointed at the metal and leather contraption that supported his crippled leg.

Why couldn’t Dickens have imagined him with just a bout of pneumonia? But no, he had to have a treatable but chronic illness and an iron leg brace. Worst of all, no matter how much he oiled the damned thing, it squeaked, announcing his presence to the world. He tightened the buckles and used his right crutch to lever himself into a standing position.

Nerissa made her way over to the table, which was already set with two bowls and water glasses. She even managed to scrounge up a candle and lit it, the wax dripping onto a tea saucer that he didn’t know he owned.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.” He was actually impressed that with a small bag of groceries and what he had in his bare cupboards, she made such a nice meal.

“I didn’t mind. Better than dancing at the club tonight.” She filled two bowls with the chicken noodle soup.

She seemed more of the schoolteacher or nanny type than being one of the working girls in the Crooked Man’s organization. But the purple ribbon around her neck was too distinct to ignore. “Thank you anyway. You could have just brought over a pizza and I would have been happy.”

“Pizza isn’t the same when you’re sick.” She nodded with a confidence that he had never seen from her. Not that they really had much contact since he started doing odd jobs for the Crooked Man.

He smiled. “Of course not. Nothing compares to homemade soup.”

He started eating, more than happy to pretend that she wasn’t paid to be here and that they were just a happy couple eating dinner together. He mulled that thought around his head. Nerissa was beautiful, but she was out of his league. Not that he had much of a league to begin with. He still had a hard time getting people to stop calling him “Tiny”.

“Do you feel any better?” She stood to clear away the dishes.

He nodded. “I do, thank you.” He stood as well, leaning on his crutch. He went to the sink to fill it with water.

“Oh, I can clean up, I don’t mind.” She set the bowls down and pouring the leftover soup in a slightly warped Tupperware container.

“How about I wash and you dry? It’ll go faster.” He smiled at her.

“Are you sure?” She looked up at him with her beautiful brown eyes.

“Nerissa, I’m not going to keel over. I’m all right enough to wash some dishes. Besides, Christmas is in a couple of weeks. I usually feel a lot better around then.”

“Is it because of all the movies?”

“Ugh. The movies. I hate them all. Especially the animated ones.” He swiped at a particularly annoying bit of food with the washrag.

“I don’t know some of them have some charm. At least not all of them are musicals.” She smiled and flicked the dishtowel at his shoulder.

“What about your movies? You’ve had more than one as well.” He smiled and leaned on his braced leg and moved his hand up to defend himself.

“I have never been a redhead.” She said seriously. “I try not to think about them. It’s hard enough, you know? Sometimes it’s too hard to see some incarnation of you get the happy ending.”

They finished the dishes and sat back down at the table, his apartment being too small for a couch or any other seating. The only sound was the infernal squeaking of his brace and the thud of his crutch hitting the stained linoleum. He sat down, tired again despite the earlier nap.

“Are you still driving a taxi cab?” Her fingers laced together on the empty tabletop.

“Only part-time. They usually only call me if they’re desperate to cover a shift. Mr. Toad put in a good word for me, but there are a lot of more qualified drivers that don’t have the work so they get called first.” He traced his finger along the fake wood pattern on the table.

“That’s why you’ve been driving The Crooked Man’s car?”

He nodded. “My hours were cut and I couldn’t pay my rent. And I don’t have anyone else here. None of my family made the journey and… it was either that or eviction. Even with the job, money was still tight. I got the rent paid, but I still couldn’t afford my medication and I got sick again.” He was cursed by his own story. If no one helps poor Tim, he will die. But now he isn’t going to be mourned by anyone. He’d cast his lot in the Mundy world long ago.

“You’re not the broken little kid that everyone makes you out to be. You want to live? Then do something about it.” She nodded firmly and picked up her purse. “I need to get going. I have to be at the club early tomorrow.”

She hurried out of his apartment so fast he thought he might’ve imagined the whole thing. Though the meds on his table and the fridge full of leftovers said otherwise.


End file.
